She pulled open the hidden door, showing him the headphones and transmitter. "This is your bookcase--you had it sent in, though I've never seen you go to it. It was always locked. Arden showed me--that's a cut-in on the telephone in the next room, and Arden said the Triangle gave orders to his men _from here_. There was a letter for you from the Apex. Arden showed that to me too. You left it behind. Jimmy, I know what your business was in Devonshire! What's the use of keeping up the pretence?" She looked straight at him. "_What time did your train get in?_" He said nothing, and there was a long silence. His face was working strangely. She saw the old devil rousing again in his staring eyes, and ran to him in a panic. "They may be back any time--maybe they were watching and saw you come in! I've got two bags packed. I had them ready waiting for you. We've got passports--we've got to get away! Jimmy----" _Zzzzzzing!... Zzzzzzing!..._ The strident voice of the hall bell cut short the incoherent stammer of words that tumbled from her lips, and for a space of time it seemed as if her heart stopped beating. And when it moved again, it pounded like a two-stroke piston. The busies had seen Mattock come in.... They were going to arrest him.... His face went white; yet still he stood motionless as a statue, gazing at the bookcase with unseeing eyes. _Zzzzzzing!... Zzzzzzing-zing!..._ "They're here! Jimmy--what's wrong with you? Why don't you do something?" She glanced frantically about her. His immobility was maddening. His brain seemed to have gone dead. "The other room--they mightn't look there----" _Zzzzzzing!... Zzzzzzing-zing!..._ It was the flimsiest of flimsy hopes; but if she could stall them off for a couple of minutes he might have time to break away before the cordon closed. She must centre all their attention on the one door while he got through the other. The bag she had packed for him stood in one corner. She thrust it into his hand, and his fingers closed on the grip mechanically. The partition door was still ajar, but she had almost to barge him through the gap. He was gone at last, and with a gasp of relief she closed and wedged the door and hastily tidied her hair. Then she went unsteadily down the hall. "I'm sure I Beg Your Pardon," said Joe Blaythwayt politely. So great was the shock that for a moment she just gaped blankly at him, while he came inside and wiped his shoes fastidiously on the mat. "A most irregular hour for calling, madam," he remarked. "I trust you will Forgive the Intrusion, and--er--Feel No Alarm on account of my Presence. I am a Widower, and therefore not Impressionable. The Urgency of my Business is my excuse."